


I know you are but what am I

by gulkote



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Crime Scenes, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gavin has Anger Issues, Identity Issues, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trans Male Character, hankcon the bg, he's trying his best, lisa frank - Freeform, no beta we die like men, not really but just incase, rk900 is a drama queen, robot gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-08-17 14:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16518680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gulkote/pseuds/gulkote
Summary: A rotating POV between Gavin and RK900, as they deal with each other (and whatever else that entails), and solve a face-stealing mystery. This is very silly._Additional tags to be added as this updates, please re-read them so you're not caught unprepared!





	1. what is this feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags have updated!

Three months into being alive, free from the confines of his programming, and RK900 has decided that he hates it.

He’s supposed to be unrestricted from his programming, but it does not feel like freedom. The objectives still appear, task directives list themselves out, waiting to be completed. The only difference he can see is that now RK has the option for dismissing them without completing any. He usually ends up completing them, for lack of anything better to do.

He has positively bullied other members of Jericho for things to do. His whole existence was made for lists, objectives, rules, dedication to seeing things to completion. The jobs are far below his processing power, and he is often hugely over qualified doing them. But what else is there? RK feels the need to do something. There is only so much inactivity he can stand. Anything is better than sitting and waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting.

So far, deviancy is proving to be _boring_.

Inevitably, the jobs run out. RK has to find other ways to occupy himself. For a time, he tries to explore the city itself, just by walking. But the charm gets old fast; there are only so many empty streets you can walk down, when he has the entire city map laid out crystal clear in his head.

Connor had suggested the option to “catch up” on the hundreds of years of media that humans seem obsessed with making and referencing. Seems lately that is how he spends most of his nights with Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Countless hours of music, movies, tv shows, and novels to go through. While it certainly does take up a lot of time, RK prefer something more simulating on the everyday.

During an afternoon together, Connor suggests it first.

“RK, would you like to work at the police department?”

 _Finally_ , RK thinks, he had mentioned feeling underutilized several days ago. However Connor would not be bringing it up unless he was certain he could offer a feasible solution. Other people besides Connor had to be consulted of course.

“The department is currently very busy,” Connor continues, “The captain may make an exception for you. You might not be a full detective, but he may place you as an acting consultant until the proper paperwork is filed and approved.” Connor looks RK full in the face before continuing. “You won’t be making a salary, but you’ll be using your skills more efficiently.”

Connor knows RK has no use for a salary yet, considering how he has an apartment allocated to himself from the city. RK is actually in Connor’s former residence, since now Connor has chosen to live with Lieutenant Anderson. RK thinks that this might be a little too much time with one person, even the friendliest of people need their space.

The side of Connor’s mouth twitches, “And you won’t be bored out of your skull.”

The lieutenant’s influence, showing itself once again. Connor seems to enjoy integrating himself with other humans. They could be having this whole conversation over a wireless connection or surface interfacing, but Connor has chosen to verbalize it. Some part of RK enjoys hearing his voice. It makes his offer feel genuine. The other part of him is annoyed over the lack of efficiency.

However, the offer is highly appealing to RK. He is made to do precisely this type of work, and he’s very eager to actually _work_. The last three months have been tedious. “This is more than adequate,” he replies, “thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Connor says rocking back on his heels. “There may be a….catch.”

RK raises an eyebrow at him. Oh?

Connor continues, “You wouldn’t be partnered with me or Lieutenant Anderson. You might be assigned to….Detective Reed.”

RK searches his memory banks for the last time Connor mentioned him. “The same Detective Reed who used to threaten you on a daily basis? The one you were aggressively friendly to for two months before he stopped?”

“Yes, him.”

That….does sound like it could potentially develop into a problem. Connor was built to get along with people, and it took him two months to win over the detective. RK is not made with the same social skills, so it will take even longer for him to develop an amicable relationship. He has never met Reed in person, and he does not have enough data to pre construct any possible outcome. However, the alternative is going back to being aimless and purposeless. He would much rather be deactivated than return to that.

“I think I can manage one “piss baby”,” RK replies, using one of Anderson’s terms, learned through Connor. “If he is already on good terms with you, it may extend to me in some fashion.”

Connor’s lopsided smile gets a little bigger. “I hope so too.”

 

Xxx

 

Two weeks later, and Connor has informed him his position at the department would be secured. He is requested to come in and meet with Captain Jeffrey Fowler, and have a discussion on the terms of his employment. RK also hopes to see Detective Reed, at least in passing. He needs more data to see how difficult cooperating might be.

He arrives at the police station Thursday morning, exactly 5 minutes early to the appointment time. RK has carefully selected being exactly this early, in order to foster a good impression, despite being ready for 3 hours. Humans are quite influenced on first impressions.

He approaches the receptionist on duty behind the counter. He holds his palm out, skin pulling back, to give her his information, and purpose for the visit. She takes his hand and syncs.

 _You have permission to wait on the white chairs inside,_ she transmits to him. She then sends a map copy of the building (unnecessary, the building is small, and he knows what it looks like from Connor’s memories), highlights the appropriate area, and opens the doors to the right of the counter. _Welcome in_ , she says before she retracts her hand.

Before he can go anywhere, RK hears voice behind him, “Oh shit, how many of him _are there_?” Turning to look, lo and behold, RK sees his potential new partner, Gavin Reed.

A quick scan tells him a few new bits of information. The detective is currently running on very little sleep and has a small collection of visible bruises on his knuckles. His green coffee thermos he’s holding is already half empty. Traces of coffee (black) are around the rim. He has (white) cat hair on both his shirt and jeans, and the hooded jacket he’s wearing could benefit with a trip through the wash.

RK is far from impressed. He hopes that this is a one-off day, because Detective Reed looks like shit.

Turning from the receptionist, he addresses Reed instead, “I’m looking for Connor, would you happen to know if he is in yet?” It’s not technically a lie, he has to meet with Connor for the meeting with Fowler. He also knows Connor is already here, but he wants to evaluate Detective Reed further.

Reed gives him a scowl, “I ain’t his fucking keeper, go check for yourself.” He pushes past RK and trudges through the doors while sipping from his thermos. Disappointed but not surprised, RK follows him in.

Standing at the waiting area, he sends a ping to Connor that he’s here. He watches Reed move towards his desk across the room. It’s going to be a long two months. If it’s only going to be only two months. He really hopes Reed washes that jacket soon.

RK can see Connor lift his head from his terminal as Reed shouts to him, “Yo Connor, your mirrorverse self is here!”

Connor gives a half-smile to Reed as he crosses the room to greet RK. When he’s within ten feet, RK opens a wireless channel and says _So is this what I have to look forward to?_

Connor answers back, _There is a fifty-three percent chance it will be better next week._

RK watches the detective flop into his chair and turn on his terminal. His desk is buried under a messy pile of papers.

Captain Fowler sticks his head out of his glass office, and gestures at both of them. Connor and him both walk up as RK ends their silent conversation with, _I dearly hope that prediction improves._


	2. Loathing

Now that the weeks blend March into April, Gavin has all but forgotten Connor’s spooky doppelganger sighting. He is well and truly occupied with hating how soggy and damp everything is. He hates going to crime scenes in the rain, hates driving his car in the rain, hates that everything is grey, grey, grey. He’s forgotten the last time he’s seen the sun. Probably saw it around the last time he got a decent night's sleep.

Hating the weather isn’t the only thing Gavin gets to do on a daily basis. People are still running around at the precinct, there is so much shit to do. The number of reports absolutely double. The whole android revolution may have been peaceful, but the aftermath sure as fuck isn’t. It’s been 3 fucking months of 12+ hours a day, and Gavin needs a break.

Gavin’s mostly salty about his lack of sleep and coffee dependance than the workload. He can put his head down and power through filing cases and the reports, no problem. But doing that for months? It’s _exhausting_. He’s either constantly drinking coffee, working his ass off, or running himself into the ground on the treadmill at the gym to come off the caffeine high.

He knows his mood has also taken a turn for the worse. What the fuck is he gonna do about it? Everyone in the department feels like shit, and they all have every right to be angry about it. There is so much crap to do, none of them can afford to take a break. Gavin refuses to be anything less than good at his fucking job. He refuses to do less work than Connor (which is stupid, because Connor doesn't need to sleep, and has 3 times the brain power in RAM alone), but he’s determined to be on top of his shit. He should be able to manage that.

Turns out he can’t.

He ends up snapping at Chris Miller. Sweet, innocent, nicest-guy-in-the-office, Chris Miller. Chris Miller, who Gavin has zero beef with. Gavin snaps at him for sighing one time too many that day. Cusses out Chris Miller, who Gavin actually respects. He knows it’s stupid, but 11 sighs is his limit, and he’s _very_ done with it today.

“REED,” Fowler’s voice cuts short whatever insult Gavin is midway through. “My office. Now!” Gavin’s mouth snaps shut and he tries very hard not to just scream. He takes one deep breath. Then obediently follows Fowler into his glass cube.

Gavin prepares for the reprimand of his life. This is probably the 8th time in the last 2 months that Fowler has called him into his office for shit he’s said or done. He was on thin ice before, but this might be the last straw. Gavin digs a nail into some old bruises on his hands as he sits down.

Instead of being screamed at, Fowler just glares daggers at him and lets out a very long sigh. Then, “Reed, go the fuck home.”

_Wow,_ Gavin thinks, _I’m finally fired, ok, cool._

Fowler continues, “Go the fuck home, do whatever you do to calm down, and be back here at 8 tomorrow, ready to be an adult and fucking work.” His voice volume is a lot lower than it would normally be, but it cuts into Gavin just as effectively. This is way worse than being screamed at.

“I need you at your best and this is _very far_ from it.”

This is worse than the guilt trips his grammy pulled on him.

“I’m too tired to yell at you properly,” Fowler rubs a hand across his eyes and down his face. “Just get out.”

There is nothing to it but for Gavin to mutter, “Fine”, leave the glass cube, grab his jacket, and drive home. He’ll have to apologize (or make a shitty attempt at apologizing) tomorrow. He looks at his tiny, filthy apartment. It’s only 3pm. His cat runs up to him, purring like a motorboat, and rubbing herself along his legs.

He bends to give her a scratch behind the ears, “I’m not staying for long, Crimes.”

She follows him around anyway, as he collects his gym clothes and throws it into a duffel bag.

The cycle of _stupid, you dumbass, bet you won’t get paid for the rest of today either, shouldn’t you have a handle on this, you can’t do anything right, you’re a mess_ going around in his head as he drives himself to the mma gym. He hopes that the usual guys will show up so he can at least have a match with someone.

He stays there for 4 hours. He did get to fight with some of the guys, and he lost almost every round. He has new bruises everywhere. Gavin absolutely aches. Feels like he’s been hit by a truck.

He feels _great_.

The shower when he gets home is heaven. Even his shitty take out dinner tastes good. Crimes even curls up on his bed with him; her motorboat purr being the last thing he hears before he drifts off to sleep.

 

xxx

 

As promised, 8 am arrives, and Gavin and his black and blue ass is at work. A few people give his split lip and bruised jaw some looks, but he ignores them well enough. As tired as they all are, office gossip still exists. Half the looks are outright glares for what he did yesterday.

But Gavin still has that runner's high feeling. He feels like he’s 78 years old. He is so sore. Nothing like getting the shit beat out of you to feel peak bliss.

He’s just set his re-filled thermos down on his desk when he hears Fowler bark out his name. Turning to look, Fowler signals to inside his office, and goes in to wait for him. Gavin has the suspicion that he is going to get chewed out. He avoided it yesterday, but he probably deserves a round 2.

Nearing the glass cube of discipline, he can see there is someone else inside too. They look very familiar. Stepping inside, he’s greeted by the angry scowl of his captain, and a blank stare of Connor’s face.

Gavin’s one of the youngest detectives on the force for a fucking reason, and as soon as he sees doppelganger Connor’s face, he turns around and walks the fuck back out.

Standing in front of the office door, Reed puts the pieces together. Connor must have pulled strings for this doppelganger to get a job here. It makes sense, seeing how both of them are designed for this type of work. They've been so busy lately which is probably why Fowler even considered it in the first place. But fuck him sideways, of course he gets saddled with one.

Gavin can hear Fowler say “Reed,” in that tone of voice you’d use for when a dog misbehaves. Gavin presses a thumb into a bruise on his upper arm. _Fan-fucking-tastic, can the world obliterate me now_. Either this is some punishment for his terrible behaviour or a very convenient coincidence. Knowing Fowler, it may be both.

It's not like this is going to just….go away if he fucks this up. Gavin is the more likely candidate for being removed right now. He's just going to have to suck it up. For now at least. Until he can transfer or get the plastic prick as far away from him as possible. One Connor in his life is enough.

Uncurling his fingers from his bruise, he walks back into Fowler’s office and sits down. The Connor Copy’s blue eyes follow him.

“Let me state some facts for you Reed,” Fowler’s voice has a lot more growl to it this morning. He must have also gotten more sleep last night. “We are currently understaffed. Every single officer here is drowning in reports. Yourself included.”

There is a nasty train of thought running, _Because I’m not good enough, you saw me as incompetent doing work alone, this is a demotion, I’m not good enough anymore, I’m being taken down a peg, not trusted to do my job,_ over and over.

Fowler gestures to Connor’s Copy, “This is RK900. He has similar and better functions to Connor,” _oh, so I’ll be out of my job even faster,_ “so your investigations at crime scenes will be faster. No more waiting for forensics all the time.”

Fowler’s eyes turns as cold and hard as Mr Carbon Copy’s. Gavin suffers through the full force glare Fowler levels at him when he says, “You two are partners for now.” His tone makes it very clear that this is not up for discussion.  

Reed has to take a few careful breaths through his nose. He’s pissed but he knows this isn’t the time to push the envelope. Not after yesterday.

“I will not be repeating myself, Reed.”

_Yeah, yeah. I fucking get it._ Reed grits out “Yes sir.”

“Then get the hell out of my office and get back to work.”

He leaves the office, Carbon Copy Connor trailing behind him. The calm from getting the shit kicked out of him is gone. Gavin is back to being 100% antsy for a fight. He’s already making plans to hit the treadmill tonight and run until he can't stand up.

RK900’s voice carries no inflection when he says “I look forward to working here.” He sounds like Connor got turned into Microsoft Sam.

Gavin hears the omission of working with _him._ Just _here._ He snaps back, “Stay the fuck outta my way.” _I don’t want you here either._

Gavin spends a lot of the day ignoring his new partner to the best of his abilities. It sort of works out since his desk is piled with reports that need to get done. He just sits down, shuts up, and continues plowing through them. Super Robot Connor follow suit, pulling a stack over to his own desk across from Gavin’s.

He’s terribly efficient.

They hardly say more than 10 words for the rest of the day, and Gavin doesn't care if most of his are “Fuck off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's cat is called Little Criminal, because it's Who She Is


	3. Pushing buttons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags have updated!

It’s another 3 days of just filing reports as fast as (humanly) possible.

The other android-human team doesn’t seem to be doing much better. Connor and Hank look just as swamped as he does. The only difference is that their paper pile doesn't seem to be slowly diminishing.

There is a secret pride to this, getting work done faster than the other two. But they also get new cases almost everyday, where Gavin only gets them every other day. Technically the other detectives are still doing more work than him. Gavin tells this part of his brain to shut the fuck up and feel good about getting shit done.

The day is almost fucking over when Fowler calls him and RK into his office for a case.

It sounds like a job for their two “dedicated-to-android-crimes detectives” Hank and Connor. But those 2 happen to be drowning farther in paper than he currently is. Gavin mentions this to Fowler in the nicest way possible.

“I’m homicide,” is what comes out of Gavin’s mouth.

Fowler gives him a flat look back. “Haven’t you heard, Reed? As of a few months ago, androids are considered people, so this _is_ a homicide.”

Gavin really isn’t going to win this argument, and last week’s guilt trip is still fresh in his mind. “Fine, where the fuck are we going then?”

“200 River Place Drive, Unit 5,” Fowler says, sliding a folder to him over his desk. “Third time something like this has popped up, the other two cases are in there.”

Gavin flips the folder open. One is just a written report, the other has a picture of an android without a face. It looks a bit like bad vfx, in a sort of uncanny-valley way.

“Same model number, face gone, and too damaged to reboot for any information.”

Reed closes the folder. “Anything else?”

“Get moving,” Fowler answer curtly, turning back to his terminal.

 _Time to go._ Gavin gets up and does not look at RK as he leaves Fowler’s office. God damn it, he’s actually going to have to talk to this hunk of plastic.

“Alright tin man,” Gavin says, grabbing his coffee thermos from his desk, “let’s go.”

RK begins to correct him, “I’m not made of tin, it’s titanium alloy and various plastics.” Before he can launch into anything more detailed, Gavin cuts him off. “I don’t care, Jesus Christ, let’s just get in the damn car and go.”

Out of the corner of his eye he can see RK get a little stiffer. He’s already changed his voice a bit since the first day, sounding less like Connor and Microsoft Sam’s lovechild. It’s a little deeper, and a lot smoother now. He’s trying, and Gavin is not making it any easier for him.

The past few days have actually been fine. RK is nothing but respectful to his space and his mood (fucking angry) about having a new partner. It’s pissing Gavin off. Connor used the “aggressively friendly” form of making Gavin stop trying to kill him. It shouldn’t have worked, but after 2 months Gavin finally caved. He moved Connor into his “we understand each other” category from the “actively attempt to destroy” category. They’ve been on a weird favour-based relationship since.

Connor had even stopped by his desk to ask Reed to be “a little more open to respecting his coworker”. Told him RK ( _very_ deep down) was also “looking forward to having a pleasant working relationship” with him. Told Gavin that while he may be an upgrade version to himself in some respects, they were unique individuals. Told him not to say anything about that conversation to anyone, because RK would be embarrassed.

Which has Gavin thinking. If he really isn’t the same as Connor, there has to be a breaking point. If this upgraded Connor, isn’t really another Connor, how much is this plastic hunk going to let Gavin walk all over him?

Gavin had ultimately told Connor that it quite frankly, wasn’t his problem whether RK liked him or not. Which translated to: I will make an attempt. If he doesn’t, he risks either being looked at with Connor’s saddest puppy eyes, or having Connor cheerfully put him into the floor, face first. He also risks getting his ass fired from Fowler, or having another “tolerance in the workplace” talk (which would lead to him getting fired anyway). So Gavin has to make some attempt to make this work. But there’s only so much he’s willing to do. Gavin’s here to do his fucking job, not babysit a socially inept robot.

 _Just like you,_ he thinks, watching RK’s icy blue eyes; flick off to the side and down, after his comment. _You’re not a social superstar yourself either. Technically, he has the better end of the stick. At least he’s_ trying _to be nice._

He yanks the side door to the parking lot open with a little more force than necessary. _Fuck you_ , he tells himself. _I can be pleasant, watch this-_

Gavin puts his fucking detective skills to work as he takes a quick glance at RK trailing behind him. Still the same Cyberlife issued white and black blazer, black slacks, polished shoes. The most visible recent change RK has done besides his voice is his hair. He’s parted it differently, so instead of that silly floppy curl, his hair is now smoothed back. It now might be a few shades darker than Connor’s as well. RK sees him do this, and raises one eyebrow. He doesn’t say anything, his expression doesn’t change either.

“So,” Gavin starts. _Fuck, this is going to be awkward_ , “Changing it up a bit huh?” He waves his hand at RK’s head.

RK’s eyes narrow slightly. “I am tired of being mistaken for Connor, I am very different from him. I am my own person and it is time some people realized that.”

Gavin can feel the “some people” being keenly directed at him, since Gavin has called him “Carbon Copy Connor” on multiple occasions. Not to his _face_ , but. Suppose office gossip exists for androids too. The comment itself was almost delivered with emotion. Gavin’s gotta hand it to RK, for having no facial expressions whatsoever, he certainly can create the illusion that it’s bothering him.

RK finishes up his little outburst with, “I am fully capable of choosing how I look, Detective.” Yeah, that “some people” comment was totally directed at him. Fuck, maybe Gavin has been a little too much of an asshole to him. Connor did say their social skills would be different, maybe this is really bothering him; and RK’s just garbage at showing it. _Sounds like someone I know, right?_ Gavin thinks to himself, _Goddamnit, I should say something_.

Gavin’s no stranger to transforming yourself into exactly who you want to be though (having ancient pictures of himself in dresses and pigtails). RK’s an android, he’s gonna be fucking fine. He’ll probably have a way easier time with swapping out whatever he wants. RK _is_ made of plastic, after all. But he can’t say that, because he has next to nil in social tact himself. Gavin was also a teen in the early 2020’s; and old habits die hard. The words his brain have chosen to convey this feeling of _hey, I get it, do your thing, it’s totally cool,_ are “Oh, big mood.”

It takes a few seconds to realize what the fuck he’s just done. And after he hears RK’s “Excuse me?” from beside him, he realizes that RK has heard him say “Oh, big mood” crystal clear. Part of his brain condemning him for resurrecting ancient memes that no one cares about anymore, the other half scrambling to make an attempt to recover.

“I said, good for you,” He tries to take a sip of his coffee to avoid talking. It’s way too hot and Gavin burns his mouth and throat. He nearly chokes. _Fuck._ It’s very great that they’ve finally reached his car, and they can drive away and leave this mess of a conversation behind them. “Get the fuck in the car,” he wheezes out. “Let’s go.”

xxx

There are already reporters milling around when Gavin pulls up to the scene. “God these people are like flies on shit,” he mutters, killing the engine and climbing out.

He hears the echo of the opposite door closing. Right, partner. He can probably get away with ignoring his new shadow, and just do what he usually does.

His damn job.

Gavin calls “Yo,”  to the officer on duty. The guy gives him a nod as they approach. RK only pauses long enough for displaying his badge, and then he wanders further into the condo. Thank fuck he’s just going do whatever a forensic terminator does at a crime scene. Probably lick stains, if Anderson is to be believed.

“What’s up here?” Gavin yawns. “We got basic info, not much else.”

“Uhh, yeah,” the guy flips through a small notebook. His name on his uniform says J. Milieu.

“The uh, deceased’s, name registered as Molly Tate, model number BY250-088. She’s been working as a pastry chef for the past...2 months.”

Gavin gives this guy a nod to keep going. _Is this guy new?_

“Ok, uh, she didn’t show up for her shift at the bakery the day before. Her work tried to get a hold of her, no answer. She was a great employee so they were willing to let is slide.”

 _Bet they sure feel awful now,_ Gavin thinks as he risks another sip of coffee from his thermos. It’s not scorching hot anymore.

“Let me,” Milieu mutters flipping through his little notebook. Thank god he’s somewhat organized. He’s also already talked to the android’s workplace for them already, bonus. They’ll have to follow up later, but this guy has already done a lot of leg work on his own.

There is a small “ah-ha” as he finds the page he’s looking for. “Her neighbour was returning tupperware. She was worried no one answered the door.” Milieu points across the hallway of the building to a little stooped lady, chatting with another officer. “Jean St Louis. She’s 92 and literally stays home all day.” Jean looks like the kind of 92 year old lady who hasn’t left her house in 92 years. She has a cigarette in her wrinkly fingers, and she’s wearing a bathrobe.

“Old lady intuition or something, anyway, she went to bug the landlord to open the door.” Milieu flips his page over and continues. “They found Molly sitting in her kitchen, both of them haven’t touched anything, thank god. We’ve got some UV lights set up, we’ve just been waiting for you guys to show up. Well, I thought it was going to be the other two guys.” Milieu rubs a hand anxiously along the side of his notebook.

 _It_ should _have been the two other guys,_ Gavin thinks sourly. Instead he says, “They’re busy,” and pushes past Milieu into the condo.

The condo is…. clean. The house looks staged, everything perfectly aligned, furniture carefully curated and designed. It’s creepy as hell.

To top the creep factor off, sitting perfectly straight at her kitchen table back to him, hands are folded in her lap, is Molly. Or Molly’s robot corpse. RK is currently looking very intently at her face, or in this case, lack thereof. Coming around to peer over his shoulder, Gavin also takes a peek.

It isn’t the fact that android skulls look eerily similar to human ones. It’s how _cleanly_ her face seems to be removed from everything else. The fork in the left eye socket is a particular gross touch. Some of the UV lights Milieu mentioned are positioned to illuminate the table, which shows off splashes of dried blue blood.

There are some nicks on the sides of her head, near her ears and chin. Maybe how her face was wedged off? Gavin didn’t even know you could pull their faces off. It doesn’t look like it was easy to do. The fork looks a little too deep in her head for the possibility to bring her back online for questioning.

RK edges closer to Molly’s face, probably scanning it. His face is expressionless. _His dead eyes match hers_. Gavin moves on to inspect the rest of her apartment, leaving RK at the table.

Molly has a lot of kitchen stuff for someone who doesn't eat. Everything also has a staged feel to it, counters too free of clutter, things placed a little too perfectly apart. Milieu said she started a job as a pastry chef at a local cafe about a month ago. She even has a stand mixer. Gavin’s sort of pissed off that someone who doesn't eat has a nicer kitchen than he does. Had.

There is a magnetic knife strip above the stove. One is is chipped. But it’s perfectly aligned with the rest of them. A little yellow card with “2” is taped above it on the wall. _Looks like knives aren’t all that great for prying off faces._

Gavin ambles out of the kitchen and makes his way towards a cluster of people lightly dusting one end of the table. Molly’s vacant face keeping watch over them. “You guys haven’t found fingerprints or anything yet, right?” Gavin asks.

One answers back tiredly, “Not yet.” Gavin thinks it’s unlikely that they’ll find any. The weird precision of everything isn’t a _thing_ human beings tended to do. Well, sane ones anyway.

“Keep looking,” Gavin says. The last thing he needs is someone to overlook something and having new evidence later comebit him in the ass. If it is a _really_ meticulous fuck covering his ass trying to make this look like robot vs robot crime, Gavin needs to know. He is not getting shit wrong again.

Of course, this is when RK chooses to _appear_ behind him like some vengeful ghost, and scare the living shit outta him.

“Detective, I have made a reconstruction of the crime scene.”

“Yeah,” taking a breath through his nose, Gavin tries to get himself back to normal, and away from RK. “That’s nice,” he says, moving towards the door. _I don’t need you to tell me what I already know, I can do my job just fine._

RK, however, follow him. Tells him in a patronizing tone, “We are going to have to cooperate eventually, Detective Reed, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t have to do shit with you. I don’t need you to do my fucking job,” Gavin snaps back.

This was the wrong thing to say; unless Gavin wanted to find out exactly how far to push RK until he snapped. Because the very next thing RK does, is grab Gavin’s shirt and shove him hard into the wall.

“Listen here, _Detective_ ,” RK’s voice hisses out, face inches from Gavin’s. This is the most emotion his plastic face has ever shown.

“I refuse to have you hinder my ability to do my job, because _you_ are too insecure.”

 _What the fuck,_ Gavin thinks.  _He’s been here for 3 days._

RK glares harder at Gavin and continues, “I have reconstructed the timeline of what happened here. I have analyzed evidence. I have contacts to the witnesses for follow-up questioning. I have compiled a list of possible suspects. I have all the necessary evidence to make a report. _My job,”_ RK pushes down harder on his neck, “ _is done._ ” Those grey eyes don’t look so soulless now. RK is furious.

Gavin desperately wants to punch him. But something in RKs expression tells him that if he does, a second crime will happen tonight.

Gavin takes a very deep breath. Says, “Fuck you,” instead.

It doesn’t feel as good as throwing a punch. 

But what is he going to do? Punch his robot partner, probably fuck up his hand, get fired, then have no insurance to cover his fucked up hand, and then be very, very, jobless.

He is going to have to cooperate. But he doesn’t have to like it.

RK lets up some of the pressure on his throat. “Now haul your bruised ass to the car. We are going to go back to the station to file the report. I suggest you hurry up, if you want to be home before nine.”

RK then drops him, and stalks off to the car. He gets in the drivers side. Gavin can see his pale eyes glaring at him through the windows.

Resigning himself to the fact that he will not be driving his own car back to the station; Gavin vengefully mutters, “I fucking hate androids,” and follows him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate Gavin and will have RK absolutely crush him, never fear


	4. dress to impress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> makeover, makeover, makeover, makeover, makeover, makeover; makeover.  
> It's the makeover chapter.

After watching Reed drive away while flipping him off, RK calls himself a taxi and takes himself home. Along the way, he starts reviewing the three days of accumulated memories of their “partnership”.

Upon review, it looks abysmal. Reed proves himself to be almost as prickly as he was to Connor several months ago. Despite his work schedule, he’s a creature of habit, and having is disrupted by an unknown was not appreciated. Being insecure about his own position at his work, adds an unexpected twist. When Reed works, he is thorough, meticulous, and detail oriented. He has an enormous amount of _pride_ in it, it’s just baffling that he is insecure about it.

Reed’s pride also makes him a pain in the ass to work with. RK can fully appreciate the expression now. Having to carefully handle every conversation to speak to him was horribly annoying. He doesn’t have the algorithms that Connor has to please people, and three days was more than enough for RK to decide that he had enough of it.

If he knew pinning Reed to a wall was going to make him accept their partnership faster, he should have done it the first day they met. The detective had spoken more words to him during the drive back from the crime scene than in the last two days combined. “Just making sure we're on the same page,” Reed had said.

He had actually come to most of the same conclusions about the crime scene he had. No forced entry, the attacker and victim new each other - or at least trusted them enough to let them inside. Unless the team inside recover any fingerprints, the culprit is probably another android. There are not many humans who know that you can remove an android's face, even less who can do it with a paring knife. Even less who keep the crime scene that clean, and leave without a trace.

Leaving the taxi, RK makes his way up to his apartment. He cannot do anything more but speculate until more evidence turns up. Or another crime is committed. The former is unfortunate, although more likely.

RK’s “living” (the term used very liberally) space was actually transferred over to him from Connor. He had never used it, instead opting to stay with lieutenant Hank Anderson instead.

The first thing RK did with his gifted 350 square foot, 4th floor, studio apartment was put exactly three things in it.

One is a grey loveseat, where RK uses to sit on and wait for his diagnostics/stasis to finish running. He could stand, he doesn’t have to sit, but it fills the space.

The second is a plastic spray bottle, currently full of water.

Third is a _Phlebodium aureum mandaianum_ \- currently thriving - sitting on the window sill. Connor got it as a gift for when he moved in. Connor later told him Hank had made him get the plant, and that is was some kind of custom. It is the most unexpected gift RK has received, and he loves it. The fern gets misted, and rotated 18 degrees to the right. RK runs a finger along the edge of a leaf. He registers the touch as a pressure, and the water droplets on its surface.

RK sits down, and starts to optimize todays memories.

There are a few things he doesn’t compress. The crime scene for one, instead he tags and files it’s contents for easier retrieval. Molly’s thririum analysis, the nicks along the side of her head, the kitchen knife on it’s magnetic strip, the contact information for Molly’s neighbours. Everything where it belongs.

RK toys with the idea of leaving the memories of threatening Reed uncompressed as well. His change in breathing, elevated heart rate, seeing Reed’s jaw clench, feeling his throat move as he swallowed. The change in tone his voice took when he said _“Fuck you.”_ His pupils slightly dilating. Ultimately, RK compresses it, because it’s a lot of information just to _have available_. He does however modify his tag for “Reed” to “Piss Baby”, and adds the compressed memories to the tag as well.

RK edits his information list on Reed, adding in “Probable Submissive Kink” under “Self Worth Issues”. _Shaping up to be a excellent example of a walking human disaster. Unfortunate._

Optimization done with, RK settles deeper into the loveseat and pulls up the episode of _The_ _Garden of Stars_ Technically he could just scroll through them all in about an hour and wouldn't have to watch them beginning to end. But Connor had been right, all those weeks ago. Watching TV was an excellent way to pass the time. And he’s already finding trends in what he prefers to watch.

The more focus on interpersonal relationships, the better. They earn a special place in his thirium pump if they include pointless drama that could be fixed with better communication. Sometimes the surprise twist the writers threw in didn't even make sense.

He loves it.

Three hours later, two new characters are introduced as potential romantic rivals for a protagonist's love interests. Her main love interest has taken offense, and there is now a rhombus of romance and poor decisions.

Half an hour after, RK decides each boy vying for her affections is a poor choice. All of them have major character flaws. And the protagonist is currently failing two of her university courses; she frankly doesn’t have time for a romantic relationship.

An hour and a half after that, RK is reconsidering his decision. Each has actually managed to show some progress in being a decent person, while the heroine has pulled her grades from the gutter. There is also new information about the two newcomers - in this world of fiction, they are twins, separated at birth.

Now this is the kind of absolute garbage RK watches TV for.

There is a whole forty minutes dedicated to the two finding differences and similarities between themselves. _Now this,_ RK thinks, _is a “big mood”._

The general thought that Connor would consider RK as a brother or sibling is prevalent throughout their workplace, but that’s far from the truth. While they share the same physical features and functions in terms of forensic analysis, that’s where the similarities end. Connor has no closer bond to himself than he does to Markus or the rest of the Jericho leaders.

Maybe it’s the physical similarities that cause humans to make that assumption. Connor is technically a prototype, but RK knows that approximately 200 units of his upgraded 900 model were produced. That would be 200 siblings according to human standards. 200 more androids to create distinctions from.

RK considers a larger change than just parting his hair. The next obvious step is swapping out his Cyberlife uniform. Something more visibly unique, perhaps.

But this is going to cause more problems than potentially solve. The uniform is designed to be incredible durable, carbon fibers woven into the pants and jacket, both of those designed to be weather resistant and tough. Not to mention the cuts, seams, and blue highlights are all in distinctive places that unmistakably identify him as an android. Not that this is a requirement anymore, with current government negotiations underway, but RK doesn’t have a desire to be seen as a human. He’s better than that.

Becoming too distracted for finishing the rest of the episode, RK starts a clothing search in earnest. Something that has the same visual look, but lacking the Cyberlife branding….

He sees a bunch of lurid patterned shirts. They remind him of Anderson’s fashion sense, or lack thereof. He hovers over a particularly tacky pink patterned shirt, thinking. Curious, RK decides to send Connor a message. _Have you ever considered wearing something other than your Cyberlife issued jacket?_

He then refines his search and the pink monstrosity disappears.

RK sends a message to Hank as an afterthought. _Have you ever wanted the chance to burn Connor’s Cyberlife jacket?_ There, that should make his job a little easier.

 

xxx

 

His extra message to Hank turned out to be unnecessary. Once RK told him he could have the same durability of the fabric without the branding, Connor did not need much convincing to abandon his uniform.

Currently, they were on their way to a small apartment complex on the other side of the city. RK had contacted the small specialty clothing business several hours ago, only to find that it was almost exclusively catered towards androids. The owner, Emma, had happily sent him back a message, _I would be happy to help, just bring yourself and an open mind :)._ The time he spent waiting for Connor he used to research an appropriate materials, not to mention appropriate fashion, in preparation.

Emma greeted them at the door at their knock, and welcomed them inside. If she recognized Connor from his brief appearances with Markus earlier that year, she did not draw attention to it.

RK recognizes her model as another BY250. It is a little strange seeing another one in less than 36 hours. It is a coincidence of course, but Emma doesn’t look very much like Molly did; faceless or not.

She has changed her default reporter look quite drastically. Her dark hair in it’s tight bun has been replaced by hot pink braids. She’s changed her default black eyes to a vibrant green. The bright colours are more noticeable by the contrast they have against her dark skin. The space for her LED on her forehead is empty.

Emma ushers them through the hallway, “I’m always happy when other androids want new clothes from their standard issue ones. I only started doing this recently, but so far it’s been working out very well.”

She has also removed all traces of Cyberlife branding from her clothing. Under a plain canvas apron, her long sleeve shirt has a white unicorn with candy-coloured hair and sparkles. Her pants are a rainbow coloured leopard print. RK begins to doubt her credentials as a fashion connoisseur. A few tasks pop up in his HUD as a result.

Connor speaks up, “How long have you been doing this for?” If Connor had not asked first, RK would have. One of his tasks disappears.

“I was a reporter before. I used to interview people for events and galas. Fashion was always a question I had to ask,” Emma answers back. “It’s interesting to see people express themselves by how they dress. Making clothing is very rewarding, especially for other androids. A few have come back a couple of weeks later, looking for something new.”

She leads the tree of them into a well lit back room with a large bay window. Emma’s work space is organized to a precision that only androids seem to possess. Two of the walls are covered floor to ceiling in stacks of tightly rolled fabric. An enormous work table sits in the center of the room with an industrial sewing machine on the far end.

Connor replies,  “I’m glad you’ve found something you enjoy outside of what you were originally programmed to do. It’s quite difficult, sometimes.” RK dismisses the information-gathering tasks from his display. They’re annoying, and Connor seems to have the same ones. 

Emma turns to face them both in front of the table. “I think I got lucky. I already liked clothing before. Speaking of clothes, I understand you have certain material requirements. This shouldn’t be an issue with most styles.” She gives a smile, “If you let me know you both a bit better I can help you find out what you’d want to wear.”

She holds out a hand, palm up. “Who would like to go first?”

Connor puts his hand in hers, “What would you like to know Emma?” _So trusting,_ RK thinks.

“Why don’t we start with what you do, then what people wear around you. Then what you like? Sometimes there are correlations between those.”

“Certainly.”

The sync seems to take longer than it should, but it might be accounting for the lower processor that Emma has. Once complete, Emma gives Connor a grin. “Well you certainly have one very particular style icon.”

 _Oh no,_ RK thinks, remembering every single one of Anderson’s outdated shirts. While it would certainly distinctly separate them visually, RK would not be caught dead in the same room as Connor.

Connor just smiles. “It is obvious. But I also like what you’re currently wearing as well.”

RK instantly begins potential constructions on the fastest way to get Connor out of the building. He lowers the safety threshold to a 60% chance of success to give himself more options.

“Thank you. Bright colours and patterns are very interesting to me right now.” Emma gives one of her candy-coloured sleeves a tug. “I do believe your workplace is a little more restrictive on dress code. We will simply have to pair things carefully, so you can wear the things you like.”

RK dismisses his constructions, and reminds himself, Emma may look like Lisa Frank artwork, but she is a professional. There is a 70% chance she wouldn’t let Connor run around Detroit in her outfit.

She reaches behind her and picks a tablet off the table. Pulling her skin back, she syncs with it. “If you keep your jeans or have a straight cut pant, you can get away with having a bright or patterned top.” Emma starts pulling up pictures of both of those things, and Connor is visibly delighted by each and every one. RK decides it’s acceptable, considering how all of them are better than the pink monstrosity that he saw earlier.

After a full half hour, Connor settles on three new button-up shirts and one pair of khakis. Navy blue with little white squares, a very ‘80s pattern with pink and teal, and an large scale pattern of blue and red paisley.

Emma turns to RK, with a smile and an outstretched hand, “Your turn.”

RK quickly does some clean up on his memories. He puts up a few walls and makes certain ones inaccessible. He makes everything relating to the crime scene he just inspected absolutely unreachable. It was classified information, for the time being.

He takes her hand, and let’s her sync. She sifts gently through his time at with Jericho, time spent with Connor, the other employees at police department, his room with the one single plant. Emma feels a little...disappointed. RK realizes she might need something more to go on. After a second of debating, he shows her some of the TV shows he enjoyed. He can feel her delight radiate out across the connection.

 _They fill the time_ , he explains.

 _They’re silly_ , is her answer, _I like them too. Thank you for showing me_.

They break the connection, and Emma returns to the tablet. “I know exactly what you want,” she says, tilting the screen for him to see.

Absolutely every outfit displays crisp lines and strong contrasts. RK makes a mental note to never doubt her again. This _is_ exactly what he wants.

He takes considerably less time than Connor to decide what he wants. A black turtleneck and an impeccably tailored blazer in a very light grey. At Emma’s insistence, he also agrees to a black button-up and a tie. She tries to get him to take a bowtie, but RK very firmly refuses.

Orders placed and paid for, Emma informs them that everything should be ready for pick up Monday evening. RK calls a car to take them home, and they leave in short order.

Sitting in the car, RK removes the barriers and walls across his memories. He reviews the hour spent at Emma’s. A few new tasks appear in the HUD again. RK tries to ignore them.

A minute passes. RK asks Connor, “Do you think it is strange that Emma found a new niche so quickly?”

Connor takes a second to evaluate before replying, “I think she really did get lucky. Maybe her programming allows her greater flexibility.” His LED cycles yellow. “It is tough, trying to enjoy something outside your programming. Hank is still trying to get me to watch old movies with him. I don’t think I can enjoy them the same way.”

RK thinks about his shows. “They do have a certain charm, sometimes.”

“Did you finish Star Trek?”

“I did, and you can tell Anderson that it was full of awful visual effects and fantasy science. It was enjoyable.”

“What are you watching now?”

“ _The Garden of Stars_. It is full of terrible people and bad acting.”

“Speaking of terrible people,” Connor gives RK a curious look. “How’s working with Detective Reed? I didn’t notice anything...too alarming.”

RK thinks back to the first three days and the night at the crime scene. He decides to uncompress his memories of Gavin’s reaction after all.

“He’s insecure and hostile. However, I think he can improve, and our relationship is on the right track. I can handle him.” Now it’s RKs turn to look at Connor. “Are you having trouble with Anderson?”

“I’ve got him to limit his alcohol intake and I’ve begun to regulate his diet. Improving his physical health also improves mental health.”

RK thinks about the five cups of coffee Reed consumes on a daily basis. “You don’t say.”

“I’m glad you’ve took me out today, RK.” Connor says earnestly. “Hank was getting a little irritable. Human beings are sure strange. Even if they have the best relationship, they always seem to need to interact with other people on a regular basis. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay out with you longer.”

“That is not a problem,” RK replies, thinking about Reed’s lack of social skills and lack of friends. _How unfortunate._ “You can stay as long as you like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank Martha Wells for Murderbot, and for Murderbot's love of TV. Please read Murderbot.
> 
> _
> 
> There probably won't be a chapter up until the new year. I've got exams and then holiday family time, and there isn't really time to update. SORRY, see you then!


	5. Jerk of the week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but an important realization: Gavin has made a mistake.

He had spent way too long at the gym Friday night, after that _fiasco_ at the crime scene. Gavin then spent the following Saturday incredibly sore and angry. It was Sunday morning when he was willing to concede that he needed get his head out of his ass and have a Think. Which meant instead of going back to the gym to punch everything out of himself, it meant going for a Run.

So that afternoon he takes himself outside to Detroit’s wet streets, and has a very, very, long run.

Now he’s rolling around his bed, worn out and completely sleepless, while his cat tries to attack his feet every time he shifts into a new position. The best thinking appears to only be done at 3 am when you’re so sleep deprived you don't give a damn about how things sound anymore.

After thinking in circles for the entire day, Gavin decides to list out the Facts, and try to ignore his personal issues. _Treat it like a job, and use your damn brain properly for once._

Fact 1:  
Gavin is good at his job. He has a stack of cases solved that is a good two times thicker than his disciplinary files, thank you very much. And he made both of those piles in under 3 years. This is why Fowler keeps him around. Fowler dislikes him, but he is not vindictive.

Fact 2:  
Fowler could assign cases, people, whatever; he wanted to Reed. Reed would still have to do it. RK being there shouldn’t even factor in. Fowler hadn’t told RK to do this case, he had told _Gavin_ to do it, with RK in tow.

Fact 3, Gavin is a little skeptical about, but so far, it holds true:  
RK being attached to him cannot be a demotion in any shape or form. See Fact 1 for details. There would be little sense in trying to hamper one of your best detectives. So Fact 3 must be taken into account.

Fact 4 can only be believed if Fact 3 is correct:  
RK wasn’t replacing Gavin, he was supposed to be helping him. Or speeding up the case solving process. See Fact 1 and 3 for details.

Fact 5:  
He wasn’t doing his job properly at this point, robot attaché or not.

These five Facts, all lead to two conclusions:

Conclusion 1:  
Gavin has taken such a wild jump to (the now incorrect) conclusion that he’s all but jumped off a cliff. Gavin had his head so far up his own ass that he didn’t even look at the Facts. RK hasn’t done anything more menacing than stand there and look apathetic at best.

So why the fuck did this happen? _Connor_ works in the police department now, and while Gavin doesn’t want to get chummy with him, he’s not trying to rip his arms off anymore.

Connor also wasn’t working directly with Gavin, he had been assigned to Hank. Gavin had supposed Connor was Hank’s problem, so he had felt justified in not giving a shit about what happened to the android, or Hank. And Hank had hated androids about as much as Gavin did, if not more, he was sure the tin can wouldn’t have been around for much longer.

The fact that Connor is aggressively friendly at anything that moves probably had a part to play in their relationship though. After Connor had weaseled his way into Hank’s good graces, he had turned his attention to the rest of the police staff. After about a month or Connor’s pestering, Gavin had stopped having the energy to voice his snide remarks. They had both just sort of stayed in their lanes; and established a sort of favour/bartering system for anything else they needed the other to do.

He should be able to extend the mutual feeling of “we don’t really get along, but we can work together” thing he has with Connor to RK. Shouldn’t be too hard of a stretch either, since they both look exactly the same. Little carbon copies of each other, probably made with all the same bells and whistles too. Shouldn’t have been a stretch. Shouldn’t have been hard.

And now Gavin can’t do that, because he went and fucked it up.

“Crimes,” he groans out, as she takes a particularly large bite at his blanket-covered toes, “why can’t I chill for 5 seconds before I do stupid shit?” God, what he wouldn’t give to be covered under work benefits again. Therapy ain’t cheap.

Gavin figures he deserved being shoved into a wall. RK was right, he can do this job without him, especially if Gavin’s going to act like a 3 year old.  He’s an adult, he should act like one.

Speaking of being an adult, this leads directly to conclusion 2:

He should apologize.

But it’s not going to change anything. It’s not like Gavin can just waltz over and go, “ _Hey, I’m so damn paranoid and a big idiot, let’s just drop this whole thing and forgive and forget, you know?_ ,” and then they can hug it out or whatever. But Gavin doesn’t want to be all buddy-buddy with a highly intelligent toaster. And after last week’s performance, there is no way RK is going to be in any “forgiving-and-forgetting” mode.

Gavin has fucked it up too badly to have any sort of hope to fix whatever mess he made. See conclusion 1 for details.

The best thing that can happen is that RK goes from being pissed off to being apathetic again. But. It’s still better than. Wherever their relationship is going now.

Gavin gives a big sigh and rolls over. Crimes, finally done attacking his toes, crawls up his back to settle on his shoulders.

What he’s really left with it two choices. Gavin can get his head out of his ass, and get ready to make this partnership work. Or he can accept the fact that he dug himself this hole, and now he gets to lay in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 weeks until my exams are done and then I can die!  
> Slowly....I'll update....


End file.
